House of Holmes
by NinjaKitty4589
Summary: Sherlock and Mycroft have a tough home life. That's how it is, and that's how it will always be. Until one day it goes too far. Kidlock AU. Johnlock in later chapters, and probably other pairings because I'm a shipper. Warning: Abuse.


No. Nonononono. Nope. This was not happening. I curled into a tight ball to protect myself from the vicious beating. This is not happening. I am not curled in a ball hiding in myself like an armadillo. I don't even need to know about armadillos. Armadillos are stupid. I just… Need to know where I am. Yes. That's right. If I'm not getting beaten then I am obviously somewhere else. I'll just search my mind palace. Yes, I'm in school or on a bench somewhere. I'm just sorting my mind palace. I'm fine.

* * *

Sherlock awoke about an hour later. Mycroft was sitting in a chair across the room waiting for him to stir. He immediately recognized this was his own room, not the living room as he last remembered, "Hello Brother… What happened?"

Mycroft smiled nervously then frowned, "It was Dad again. I'm sorry Sherlock." He looked away losing himself in thought, but snapped back to reality, "I should be able to protect you. You're my younger brother."

Sherlock shook his head, "It's not your fault. There's nothing you can do. He hurts you too…"

Mycroft stood abruptly, "Take the pills on the nightstand and get some rest. We have school tomorrow."

With that he walked out of the room quickly. Sherlock sighed and did as he was told, not because Mycroft said so though. Obviously it was for some other reason, he was tired, he was sore, something else. Not because his brother was worrying about him.

* * *

Sherlock shoved his hands into his pockets and kept his head down as he walked through the halls, 'Don't draw attention to yourself, and don't look at anyone.' He repeated his mantra for surviving this hell hole in his mind as he strolled through the halls. He entered his classroom and scanned it quickly, 'If I sit there the animals will bully me, if I sit there the girls will giggle and talk about me, if I sit there I should be safe.' In less than a second he had made his decision, he'd sit in the back away from the windows. This was the safe corner of the classroom.

A short and klutzy girl sat in front of him, Maggie or something of the sort, he did his best not to know their names, but they were clutter compared to the names of people he investigated. Next to her was that annoying prat that felt it was his duty to inform Sherlock of how much of a freak he was. Oh. How nice. The twit was going to silently moon over the girl while she 'snuck' glances at Sherlock. No way in hell was he involving himself in a stupid love triangle. Just before the bell rang a boy sat down in the seat on Sherlock's right, Moriarity. He was interesting, but not pleasant. Sherlock pulled out a book on forensics and read through the teacher's entire lesson, successfully blocking out his peers and the teacher. She had long given up trying to make him pay attention after he deduced her marital state and number of cats in front of the whole class.

The bell rang and the class flooded into the hall, except for Moriarity, "It happened again last night."

Sherlock snapped his book shut and shoved it in his bag, "Why does it matter to you?"

Moriarity smiled coyly, "Because I enjoy my sleep, and it's hard to get any when the boy next door is sobbing on the floor calling for his mummy."

Sherlock glared at Moriarity, "At least I don't cuddle up with my care taker and take special baths with him."

Moriarity hissed back, "Sebastian is only three years older than me."

Sherlock smirked, "So when you turn eighteen and he's twenty-one you'll get married, and you'll go off on murder sprees for a honeymoon."

Moriarity glared venomously at Sherlock, "You'll pay for that comment."

Sherlock threw his bag over his shoulder and walked away, "Whatever you say, Lolita."

He stalked to his next class and plopped into his desk. He laid his head down and glanced at the desk next to him. A new kid. Great. Today couldn't get any better. The boy eyed Sherlock warily, "You okay?" Sherlock turned his head the other way and frowned. He was not going to talk to this dolt. "Okay that's a no. Whatever it is... Good luck." Sherlock's frown turned into a scowl, 'Good luck? That's not a normal response. Usually it's something pathetic like 'I'm sorry,' or 'I hope it gets better,' whatever.' He turned his head enough to glance at the boy, "You're strange." He turned his head away again and retreated to his mind palace for the rest of the period.

The bell saved him from boredom, he'd already finished his book, so he'd decided to review cases for the time being.

The boy lingered and watched Sherlock, "I'm John."

Sherlock looked him up and down, analyzing him quickly, "The name fits."

John frowned, "What's that supposed to mean?"

* * *

Sherlock sighed, "You lead a boring life, your father isn't around and you care for your brother with little help from your mom. She is too busy with probably about three jobs to stop and care for you two. A regular old John Doe."

John's eyes widened, "How did you know that?"

Sherlock started walking, "What did you mean by good luck?"

John frowned in confusion before following the strange new boy quickly, "Well I'm sorry would have been stupid to say because it's an empty condolence, and whatever is bothering you seems pretty heavy, so I just hope it turns out well for you. So… Good luck."

Sherlock nodded slowly, "Interesting." His pace slowed enough for John to catch up, "You're not as dumb as you look."

John scowled and looked around, "Whatever. Where are we going?"

Sherlock glanced at him, "I'm skipping. Unless you plan to as well I suggest you head to your next class."

John frowned and stopped, "Why are you skipping?"

"You hold yourself with confidence and yet waiver when a more dominant male approaches. The man of the house. Your clothes are wrinkled and less than crisp, a mother would never let you leave the house in such a state. There are heavy ring around your eyes, so obviously you've been staying up late for a very long time, and it's obviously not for grades since you're perfectly okay with skipping a class."

"That was… Brilliant, but I don't plan on skipping a class. Oh, and you were wrong about one thing."

Sherlock eyed him curiously, "What was it?"

"I have a sister, not a brother."

"Minor detail." He mentally scolded himself, the boy reminded him vaguely of Mycroft, so he'd just assumed there was a younger brother.

John turned around as Sherlock headed out the side door of the school. He glanced back once and frowned, "I'm not sure I'm the strange one. I don't even know his name." He turned his head back and kept walking.

* * *

Sherlock pulled his knees up to his chest and watched the birds in the trees. 'Lucky bastards. Free to go wherever they want.' A gentle breeze rolled through the park, yet soon enough Mycroft would find him again. He'd chosen a more remote location this time, so his search would be harder. He set his head on his knees and watched the smaller children playing on "the monster." It was a ridiculous name for playground equipment, but it must have been fun if their squeals of joy were any indication. He narrowed his eyes at them and hugged his knees tighter.

Mycroft sat down next to him, "We need to go home Sherlock."

"Fine." He stood up and started walking.

"You skipped school again."

"It's a building full of brainless pink monkeys."

"You argued with Moriarity again."

"I told you to stop spying on me."

"Be careful around him. I don't trust him."

"I'm throwing your cake out tonight."

Mycroft glared at him, "I ate it all yesterday."

"All three of them? I thought you were on a diet."

"I am. I didn't even buy another today."

"You're going to get fat again."

"Get in the car."

* * *

Sherlock glanced out the window and smirked, "Hey Mycroft, look." He pointed at a bakery.

Mycroft's grip on the wheel tightened, "No."

* * *

They passed another bakery, "Hey look another one."

"I'm not going to buy more cake Sherlock."

"Sure you're not tubby."

* * *

Sherlock chuckled, "We only made it a block and here's another one."

Mycroft pulled the car over and looked at Sherlock, "You're walking home."

"Alright. Fine. I won't make any more fa-" He looked over at Mycroft, "You're going to buy enough cake to fill the car aren't you?"

He handed Sherlock an umbrella, "Start walking." He got out of the car and headed into the bakery.

* * *

Sherlock pushed the door open slowly and listened carefully, "I'm home Father."

When he didn't get a response he quickly walked to his mother's room, "Hi Mom." He held her hand gently, "I hope you're feeling better today." He looked her over, "I'll trim your hair again tomorrow; there were a lot of nice new styles in the magazines I bought for you last week." A few tears slipped from the corner of his eye as he squeezed her hand softly, "Maybe you'll wake up tomorrow. You'll get better. I promise." He sat down in the chair next to her bed and just held her hand.

He woke up to the sound of a muffled yell. 'Mycroft.' He kissed his mother's cheek softly before he left the room in search of his brother and father. He peeked into the study and gasped, Mycroft was lying on the floor bloody and bruised, his father leaning over him still kicking him. 'Oh god no. No. No. No!' He clung to the door and waited for his father to stop. The tall man lumbered out of the room, completely ignoring Sherlock. The scrawny boy rushed in and picked up Mycroft, "Oh god, it's okay brother I'm here." He struggled to stand while holding his older brother, "Okay we're just going to go get you fixed up. It'll be fine."


End file.
